Reminiscent of JG Ballard’s Crystal World or Jeff VanderMeer’s Annihilation, this is the nightmarish plot of Else. And on its surface, it’s textbook body horror. It seems that director Thibault Emin wants the audience to think the same, opening with imagery and sound effects as venereal as anything you’ll find in staples of the subgenre like Shivers, Cabin Fever and the more recent Together. But rather than relying on gore, Emin steers his picture in a more abstract direction.

Comparative to triumphs like Suspiria and The Shining, sound and imagery is layered but never wholly explained or revealed, creating a surreal, dreamlike unreality which is beyond the comprehension of both the characters and audience. In place of blood and viscera, grief, objectification and isolation take centre stage, emphasising how trauma has the power to connect us — and in the case of Else, how a virus can harmonise us in ways humans can never achieve alone.

These whimsical, expressionist depictions of terror are what make Else such a peculiar (and refreshing) addition to the body horror canon. And although it can sometimes feel protracted and stagnant, its haunting melancholy — coupled with an infectiously candid performance from Edith Proust as Cass – make these flaws easy to forgive. The ending stays with you long after the credits roll. Set to a backdrop of Eraserhead-esque monochrome, it delivers one of the most heartbreaking scenes in recent memory. And above all else, Else proves that body horror can transcend the gratuitous and corporal.

DISTRIBUTOR
Blue Finch

DIRECTOR
Thibault Emin

SCREENPLAY
Thibault Emin
Alice Butaud
Emma Sandona

CAST
Matthieu Sampeur
Edith Proust

DIGITAL
2 March 2026

Posted by Jim Reader

Jim is a London-based journalist who has worked for a number of titles, including Bizarre, Vogue, Boxing News and the Daily Sport. He graduated from the University of Nottingham in 2009 and became a Master of Research in American Literature in 2010.